Masquerade
by Cinpii
Summary: [Ryoma x Sakuno. Non yaoi.] Momo makes a bet with Ryoma. One Ryoma is going to regret.
1. Prologue: Eyes

**Disclaimer:** Prince of Tennis was created by Takeshi Konomi. Not me. Please don't sue.

**AN:** I always wanted to do a 1st person point of view. This is a challenge I issued to myself to see how well I could write an angst fic in an hour. Yaoi, non-yaoi, I kept the pairing ambiguous so anyone can enjoy it.

If you feel something, I succeeded. Comments and criticisms welcome. Enjoy.

**Masquerade**

By Cinpii

**Prologue: Eyes **

Your eyes glint with unshed tears and I feel like the biggest slimeball in the world. We stand face to face; friends and teammates standby in shock.

"Is it true?" you whisper. The lovely timber of your voice quivers on the last syllable.

I want to say no, I want to explain, but the crowd around us with their prying eyes trigger my pride and I can't say anything. Instead I turn my head away and look off into the distance.

Silence. The wind swirls around us. Leaves rustle along the ground. Birds chirp. But no words are uttered for several long seconds.

I continue looking into the horizon, not focusing on anything really. I feel the eyes burning in my back, eyes from onlookers that have no right to witness something so personal and shameful.

Silence means consent, and we both know it. Your eyes grow larger and you blink, trying to contain the crystalline liquid from escaping.

"So everything was just a lie, huh?"

It hurts. My heart hurts. The naked pain in your voice is so clear. But then, you were always so honest like that. So innocent and untainted. It always made me feel dirty, standing next to you, like I didn't measure up, like I wasn't good enough.

But you never cared, did you? Being with me made you happy, and that was enough for you. But now you know the truth, and everything has come undone. I'm not the kind of person you thought I was. I never was, but I was good at hiding it.

At first it was just a game to see if I could actually win you. But you fell so readily, and I found out I actually _liked_ you. So I kept it up. Kept up the facade. But I liked you too much to have kept lying like this. The days kept passing and I kept wanting to tell you, but one look at your innocent, happy face and I knew I couldn't.

And now it has come to this. You heard about the bet from someone else. The bet I stupidly made to see if I could make you fall for me. And now you think all my feelings were false and everything from my mouth were lies.

I can't blame you. But they were all true. When I said that I – that I was falling in love with you, that was true.

But I can't say it now, can I? Stupid pride. And you just keep looking at me with those eyes. And I just keep looking away.

**FIN**

* * *

**Additional notes:** This was originally a one shot but I decided to keep going. The characters were supposed to be ambiguous, but if one continues reading, the pairing will become apparent.

Still, for those who enjoy one-shots, stop here. For those who like multi-chaptered works, keep reading.

Any and all comments are welcome. And as always, thanks for liking my work!


	2. Chapter 1: Breaking Point

**Disclaimer:** Prince of Tennis was created by Konomi Takeshi. Not me. Please don't sue.

**AN:** This is for all the people who've liked 'Eyes' but wanted to know who the characters were and how it all came about. Regarding the timeline for this fic, events in these chapters occur before the prologue. To be more accurate, they will lead up to it.

Comments and criticisms welcome. Thanks for liking my work. Enjoy.

**Masquerade **

By Cinpii

**Chapter 1: Breaking point**

Echizen Ryoma despised mornings. He never liked them much to begin with. The sudden day rise additions to his life certainly did not help. Just when he thought he took care of the matter, another one popped up. In fact, they were all starting to compound.

The first caught Ryoma by surprise but being a well-adjusted sort of person, he dealt with it fine enough. After that, they arrived in a trickle. It was a small stream, each request far and few in between. Overall, not a big hassle. It was after word of his tennis victories got around when they really started pouring in. It was now at the point where he actually contemplated forfeiting a match to see if they would stop. And Echizen Ryoma did not forfeit matches. The situation was indeed, quite dire.

Ryoma opened his shoebox and restrained the weary sigh that threatened to escape. This was getting annoying, he thought as his eyebrow ticked. With barely contained impatience, the boy buckled down and repeated the ritual he did too many times to count.

With his thumb he ripped open the cutely decorated envelope and pulled out the equally cute piece of matching stationary. He must have received a few dozen of them by now. Ryoma didn't need to read the letter to know what it would be about. They were all pretty much the same. Veteran eyes skimmed the contents and instead looked for specifics. In careful, painstaking print, he found his query. After school, by the large oak near the library.

Geez, as if he didn't have better things to do. And why was it always after school? Couldn't they be a little more considerate? He had hobbies and not to mention, a goal in life. How would he smite his old man if all these obstacles kept hindering him?

This would take at least fifteen minutes, he thought with irritation. The trek to the library, while not incredibly far away from the courts, were still a distance away given the size of Seigaku's campus. It'd take him five minutes to walk there from his last class. Then he'd have to stand there and feel guilty for making the girl – whoever she was this time – cry. The walk back was another five minutes, and of course, he'd be late for practice, which would then mean an extra twenty laps around the courts.

His breath hissed out behind clenched teeth. The letter crinkled as his hand fisted. This had to stop. These silly confessions were becoming a major pain in the ass. His tolerance for girls, while not high in the first place, took a steep plummet with each asinine letter that cluttered his box. Why couldn't they leave him alone? What did he do to encourage this? Ryoma rubbed the bridge of his nose. He could not think of a single answer.

Overhead the bell rang and he jerked to attention. With hasty movements he changed shoes and strode to class. He'd have to think of some way to permanently fix this problem. As for now, he had an English test to ace.

Behind him, a pink crumpled ball circled the rim of a trash bin before sinking in.


	3. Chapter 2: Hook, Line and Sinker

**Disclaimer:** Prince of Tennis was created by Konomi Takeshi. Not me. Please don't sue.

**AN: **Minna, if you haven't checked out the RyoSaku site Beriath and I created, make sure you do. The fanart there rocks. See our bios for the link.

About my works, I know I'm slow. But I still appreciate every comment and criticism you guys care to give me. Thank you for taking the time to write them. They mean a lot.

Enjoy.

**Masquerade**

By Cinpii

**Chapter 2: Hook, Line and Sinker**

The day was sunny, a light breeze kicking up and relieving some of the afternoon heat. Sneaker clad feet made its ready way across concrete, the steps sure and quick. Another pair of feet trotted towards the first at a faster pace, with all intention of catching up.

"Echizen, slow down."

Ryoma cocked his head but did not reduce his speed. He recognized the owner of the voice and, now armed with the knowledge of who was shadowing him, decided to walk even faster.

He wasn't in the mood for a chat. He was late for practice. Why was the whole world gunning for him like this? He just wanted to play tennis, damnit.

It was to no avail. The pair of feet caught up.

"Brat," Momoshiro Takeshi muttered to himself before brightening his face and calling out again with a cheerful nudge. He'd give the kid a noogie but Ryoma was already so asocial as it was, it'd be detrimental to Momo's goal.

Ah, what the heck? Life was too short to bypass a good noogie. Momo reached out and pulled the reluctant pre-teen into a headlock, using his free hand to ruffle Ryoma's hair.

"Itai-su Momo-senpai!"

Ryoma's bag dropped to the ground in the scuffle. Oi, he really hated it when Momo did that. Just because he was short everyone thought it was ok to pick on him. Grrr…

Ryoma shot Momo a dirty look before he bent down to shoulder his bag.

"What does Momo-senpai want?" the petulant boy asked.

If he wasn't crabby before, he was now, Momo thought. Ah well. He was used to it. Like water rolling off his back, Ryoma's testiness didn't bother Momo in the least. It was Ryoma's most amusing trait, really. At least to Momo. Being the jokester that he was, he decided to tease the first year a little more.

Raising his eyebrows and giving Ryoma his most innocent face, Momo remained silent and shrugged his shoulders. He'd been taking lessons from Fuji and been dying to try it out.

"Just saying hi."

The cat-eyed boy looked at his senpai in disgust and continued his trek towards the clubhouse. So perhaps he was being childish. But really. He was _so_ not in the mood for such things.

Momo trailed along, five feet away. He folded his hands behind his head, lackadaisically walking as he whistled with his devil-may-care attitude. He was late for practice, but he had an excuse, so life was good.

They continued walking like that until Ryoma reached the clubroom. His shirt was halfway undone by the time Momo came in. Silently ignoring the other presence, Ryoma irately undid the rest of his buttons hoping to change quickly and get on the courts.

Momo obviously had other plans.

"No delicacy, no delicacy at all. No wonder you make all the girls cry." The words were muttered, but Ryoma heard them. Hands pausing at the buckle of his belt, he turned around and leveled a frown at his teammate.

The frown was ineffective, as Momo did not see it, his naked back towards the smaller boy. Muffled grumbles came from his side of the room, words like 'konoyarou' and 'callous heartbreaker' emitting from the shirt he was tugging over his head.

Sirens were going off in Ryoma's brain. _Don't ask questions, just change and get the hell out._ But in a rare lapse of intelligence, he ignored his good reason to sate his curiosity. In a voice carefully modulated to not sound overly wary, Ryoma spoke.

"What does Momo-senpai know about that?"

A snicker. Then a chuckle. The next thing Ryoma knew, he was standing witness to a chortling senpai, bent at the waist and arms clutched protectively around his middle. Ryoma scowled as Momo's braying laughter abraded his ears.

"Who – doesn't – know?" Each word was punctuated with a gasp, as Momo fought for breath, his tone laced with hapless mirth.

They were talking about him. Bastards. Faces swirled before Ryoma's eyes, a myriad of them, flashing by so fast they started blurring until they became indistinguishable. He had noticed the whispers and glances increasing of late, but had not thought twice about them.

So everyone knew huh? Like he cared. He wasn't here to win a popularity contest. But the attention _was_ getting annoying, and Ryoma detested being used as rumor fodder. It was one thing having people talk about him because of his tennis prowess; it was another to have their tongues wagging because of his supposed 'love life'.

Correction. His inexistent love life.

"And how would you solve my problem?" Ryoma muttered, flapping his Seigaku jersey before shrugging it on.

He didn't really expect a response. It was just an automatic comeback. In hindsight, Ryoma regretted ever saying it. In the weeks to follow, he would come to regret it very, very much. That was the thing about hindsight though. One was only wiser after the mistake.

"Easy. Get a girlfriend."

The tennis prodigy paused tugging on his shirt to just stare at the spiky haired junior. That was the first and last time he'd ever ask Momo for advice. He knew his senpai was thickheaded, but he didn't think Momo was that slow.

If he wanted a girlfriend, he'd have one already, damnit. Ryoma stated so as he started on the buttons of his polo. He stated so in typical Ryoma fashion, of course.

"That's the stupidest idea I've ever heard."

Momoshiro wagged a finger at his kouhai before he laid down his logic. "No, hear me out. Once you get a girlfriend, the rest will back off."

The younger boy raised a skeptic eyebrow. Grudgingly, he could concede the truth in that statement. But the thing was, he didn't _want_ a girlfriend. Again, going against his good logic, Ryoma humored his senpai. He should have known better, but even the magnificent Echizen Ryoma could fall prey to stupidity every once in a great while.

"Who would I choose?"

It was too late to say yes to any of the girls he had already denied. Not that he remembered their faces. He was really bad about that. With names it was even worse.

Pretending to dig through his bag, Momo effectively hid his visage, which was a good thing. Ryoma didn't see the devilish smile that graced his senpai's lips. If he did, he would have been on guard. He should have been.

Momo was a matchmaker at heart, and for months he suspected the reason why Ryoma spurned all advances was because he secretly liked the coach's granddaughter. It was blatantly obvious to him, but Ryoma was hard to read sometimes. Most likely though, and this Momo would bet his lunch money on (which was a small fortune in and of itself, and not to be taken lightly), was that the little brat just never realized his feelings for the girl.

Although he was a genius in tennis, Ryoma could be really slow.

Momo's grin became even wider. Who better to give Ryoma a push in the right direction than his loving, caring senpai? Momo knew Ryoma was sweet on the girl. It was a gut feeling. His tennis style was based on instinct, so this feeling couldn't be wrong. Now, if he just pushed the right buttons…

"Why don't you pay someone to agree to pretend for you? That way you don't really have to do anything."

"_Pay_ someone to date me? Is Momo-senpai nuts?"

"Ok, so choose someone who would do it for free. What's her name? Osakada? How about her?" Momo suggested. His lips twitched and he smothered a snort. Ryoma would never go for that loud-mouthed girl and he knew it. Sure, the self-proclaimed president of the Echizen Ryoma fan club was cute and spunky, but frankly, her obsessive fangirling was downright disturbing.

"Yada." Ryoma aimed a stolid stare at his senpai, one that well expressed his disdain. The image of him dating the pushy, outspoken girl horrified him. No freaking way in hell.

Echizen was so easy to predict. Momo suppressed a smile and instead made a show of thinking hard, tapping his finger against his chin. "Well, the only other first year girl I can think of that might actually tolerate you enough to do it for free is the coach's granddaughter."

_Sakuno?_

Reddish brown eyes set in a pretty face materialized in Ryoma's mind. Impractically long hair bound in twin pigtails. A smile as sunny as it was pure. A sweet, soft-spoken voice. She was innocent, untainted… and absolutely perfect for the role. No one would ever doubt their relationship if it was Sakuno. She was too sincere.

And too kind to turn down a request.

A vein popped somewhere above Ryoma's left eye. A possessive emotion surged in him and it added a sharp edge to his tone. "Don't drag Ryuzaki into this."

"Heeh? A little touchy, aren't we? Why not her? She'd be nice enough to pretend." _But you don't want to pretend. Not with her. Too bad you're so obtuse you can't see what's right in front of your face._

Ryoma remained silent while he pondered his words. He wasn't sure why he spoke out like that. He just knew he didn't want to use her in that way. Of course, being the prideful boy he was, he didn't dare say that. So he huffed and commented, "Not interested."

"Ah, you're right," Momo nodded in agreement. "She wouldn't be interested in you. What was I thinking. An un-cute brat like you mustn't aim that high. Your callous and blunt nature wouldn't suit her anyway."

Ryoma's hand paused from stowing his pants away on an empty shelf. His head swiveled, lancing Momo with an incredulous look. His senpai continued speaking, oblivious of the reaction of his sole audience. The litany of adjectives marched on, all depicting how undesirable Ryoma was, and how he'd never be able to score a pretty little thing like Ryuzaki Sakuno. Ryoma's eye ticked all the while.

"Never mind I said anything." Momo clapped his hands and dusted them off, finished with his soliloquy. Ryoma had stood there silently throughout the entire spiel, stewing in resentment. He was gonna whup his senpai's ass on the courts. But first things first.

"You don't think she'd go for me?" Ryoma spoke calmly, his voice vibrating with quiet intensity. The room's atmosphere became eerily still.

Momo halted from opening the door, a wide smirk encompassing his face. The kid was nipping at the bait. He was too good.

"Never in a million years."

"It won't take that long. She'll be mine before the end of the week."

"You willing to bet on that?"

"You're on."

And that was how the bet was made. Two stupid juveniles hashing out details in the tennis clubroom on an innocuous day during practice.

They would each come to sorely regret it.


	4. Chapter 3: Not in Kansas

**Disclaimer:** Prince of Tennis was created by Konomi Takeshi. Not me. Please don't sue.

**AN:** The RyoSaku site Beriath and I created just keeps getting better and better. If you haven't checked it out, what are you waiting for? See our bios for the link.

About my works, thank you so much for your reviews. Comments, criticisms, when you take the time to point out a particular point you enjoyed or thought I needed to improve upon, it means so much to me. Thank you.

Enjoy.

**Masquerade**

By Cinpii

**Chapter 3: Not in Kansas**

"Damn," Ryoma muttered as he walked home after practice. He slipped his hands in his pockets and ambled along, eyes gazing at the ground but not really registering anything. His sneaker-clad feet ate up the distance with the speed of a koala.

Echizen Ryoma was thinking. And he was in a bind.

He should have never agreed to that stupid bet. What was he smoking? He didn't want a girlfriend. That's why he turned them all down.

_But if Ryuzaki confessed, would you have turned her down?_

Shut up, he told himself. He blinked and stopped walking.

Oh great, now he was talking to himself. No, not just talking to himself, debating. All because of a girl. Ryoma tilted his head back and closed his eyes. He let out a sigh.

For the umpteenth time that afternoon, the tennis prodigy cursed his quick tongue and hasty temper. That bastard senpai of his tricked him. Taunted his ego, triggered his mouth into saying something incredibly stupid. Ryoma could feel the tingles of irritation coming over him, and clenched his fists. Just thinking of how he'd been duped pissed him off. He was going to thrash Momo good on the courts tomorrow, but the thought did little to appease his current anger.

Ryoma grit his teeth. He couldn't take it back. No, he was too prideful for that. Echizen Ryoma never ran away from an opponent or a match, and he wasn't going to run away here. Never mind that Sakuno wasn't exactly his opponent, and that this wasn't a match per se. It was comparable, and the tennis-minded boy saw the terms as such. He was going to treat this as a match, he was going to prevail and win.

But just how the hell was he going to do that?

Sheer determination and will counted for something, but Ryoma realized that he didn't have the necessary skill set to ensure victory. He said he'd make Sakuno his by the end of the week, but again the pesky question reared its head, antagonizing him. How the hell was he going to do that? The boy frowned grumpily and resisted pulling his hair out. Such displays of frustration were beneath a player of his caliber anyways. Besides, he'd need to look good if Sakuno turned out to be the vain type.

Not that he thought she was. His thoughts turned towards the girl. Ruefully, he realized he didn't know much about Ryuzaki Sakuno at all. They've been attending the same school for months now, socialized together for months now, and still there wasn't one concrete fact about her he could honestly say he gleamed. Aside that she was the coach's granddaughter and a first year like himself, Ryoma had to admit, he knew very little about her. For all their interactions, he had walked away with nothing. She was a virtual stranger, and Momo-senpai wanted her to be his girlfriend?

Oh wait, he was wrong. With a fist hitting his palm, Ryoma's neurons fired off, working overtime to recall long buried recollections about the girl. He knew some things about her after all.

She sucked at tennis.

Yup, that was true. He almost forgot about that.

After a moment, more adjectives came to mind. Ryoma nodded, ticking off on his fingers everything he knew about her. Knowledge was power right? Besides, it made him feel a little better attacking the problem from an analytical viewpoint.

One, she was shy. Two, she was clumsy. Three, she had a horrible sense of direction. The boy chewed at his bottom lip, thinking hard about her other traits. The wind blew by, ruffling his unadorned head of hair, and the birds chirped, filling the silence with their musical cacophony.

One agonizing minute crept by.

Ryoma blinked.

Another minute crawled along.

His mind drew a blank. He scratched at his scalp in thought. Crap. He only knew three other things about her? Looking down at his palm, the facts stated so clearly in black and white, Ryoma sweat-dropped.

Three extended digits. Three. Three might be a lucky number, but this was ridiculous.

These couldn't possibly be the only things he knew about her, could it? He was only on his ring finger for crying out loud.

What did she like? What did she _not_ like? And most importantly, would she say yes if he asked her out? The first year prodigy of the Seigaku tennis team stood there, stumped, staring off into space.

What did he get himself into?


End file.
